Golden
by jehbel
Summary: Ryou's father brings him a gift- it is ancient, beautiful, and oddly sinister. He begins to forget, and destroy. His feelings aren't his own. But who exactly do they belong to? Whose voice is hissing in his ear? Tendershipping. Ryou x Y. Bakura.
1. Awakening

**Hello everyone!**

 **After a brief rest from writing (I lost my motivation) I'm back with a new story. I have decided to discontinue my other story, The White Hare, so apologies to those who were following it. I hope you enjoy this story as much, if not more, than you were the other.**

 **This story is based on a mix between the manga and the anime: essentially, it focuses on Ryou receiving the Millennium Ring, and his slow realisation that there is more to the artefact than meets the eye. How does he handle the emergence of Yami Bakura?**

 **As always, please review/comment/ feel free to suggest/request. I hope you enjoy!**

 **This story is, of course, for InLoveWithMysteries, and JustCallMeLucie. And for any of my lovely followers who make it so addictive to be a member of this site! :***

 **~Jehbel**

* * *

 **.**

.

.

The silence was oppressive, thick, unthinking; was time moving? Was he frozen in place?

What was…. He?

The thoughts, sluggish and barely existent. Breaking apart, dissipating like ribbons of smoke. Were they even real to begin with?

The darkness reared up and took him. He offered no resistance.

.

.

.

Then, the whisper of consciousness, lightning-swift and elusive even as he focused on it. _Quick, hold it._

 _Don't let it go._

.

.

.

How long had it been? Aeons? Was time still steadily working forward in a deathly march of inevitability? Was he still beholden to its hateful pull? He could feel it. He could feel the darkness, an impenetrable and endless blanket. He could not move. He was curled in on himself, foetal and weak in his womb-like tomb of nothingness. Was he cold? Surely he would feel nothing in this utter void? Still, the shivers rippled down his spine like nightmarish fingers, tripping and tickling their way down. Suddenly, he could feel solid coolness under his body; was he laying down? Was this a floor?

 _Why am I am aware of this?_

The kick of hope, like an ugly hiccup in his stomach.

 _I am… alive. I am... me._

He was awakening, after so long.

With the realisation of self, of sensation, he became ravenous. A slavering beast. He craved. He craved more than anything has ever craved in all the worlds.

Light. Freedom. Flesh. Control. He wanted it all.

Hands clenched and released; clenched and released.

Curiosity crept in. Why now? What was different?

A face swam across his mind before the thought had completed itself. _Ah, a Carrier._ Pale, grave. Shockingly different to the faces he was used to knowing, yet somehow so familiar. _What world is this? How did he come by my vessel?_ He focused on the face. _Young. Male? Easy._ The face was almost blinding in its purity and innocence, the eyes large, rich, beguiling. He could feel his Carrier's sense of Self, and it enraged him. He could sense his Carrier's name, so solid and assured.

A new sensation- malicious, hateful glee, unfurling in his stomach like an insidious centipede. _Easy. He will easily give over to me. I will take his body, his Self, his very name. And I will make a mockery of it._

Finally, he stretched. His mind, dormant for so long, feeble and fatigued with misuse. His body, as insubstantial as vapor. Agony ripped through his limbs as though they were real, and were feeling for the first time. Perhaps they were. His lips drew back in an angry grimace at the pain; it would not defeat him. _I will walk this world again._ He relished the sensation.

Suddenly, terror; the darkness was returning.

 _No!_

He fought it. He fought with everything he had in his fragile self. But the darkness was an old enemy, and a strong one; it remembered. He had no place beyond it. He clawed and bit, cursed and struggled, but still slipped under as easily and lightly as a feather. The darkness settled, and he knew no time. No sensation. No self. It all left him as quickly and painfully as it had come.

But, he had tasted consciousness, and the bright spark of life could not be easily forgotten. So he sank, and slept, and forgot all again.

All but that face, so bright. And the name.

 _Bakura. Bakura Ryou._

 _._

 _._

.

* * *

"Father!"

The young teen threw himself forward to wrap his arms eagerly around his father's waist. The taller man chuckled deep in his chest, the sound reverberating through Ryou's slender body, calming and pleasing him. His father's voice had always had a soothing effect on him; it was solid and warm, and as robust as the man it belonged to.

"Ryou. So good to see you, Son!" The travel-weary man crushed his small son in a hug, knocking the wind out of the teen and causing him to laugh breathlessly in response. "I missed you!"

Ryou grinned up at his father, large brown eyes adoring. "I missed you too! You were gone for so long this time!" He closed one eye as his father's large hand mussed his white hair, and grinned up at the man through his messy bangs.

"Not so long, Ryou; only five weeks. Gods, you need a haircut, m'boy!" It was a fond joke between the two of them; they both loved Ryou's shaggy white hair, inherited from his own father and grandfather, and they would never seriously consider cutting it off. Ryou laughed dutifully in response and playfully pushed his father's hand away as though he found it irritating. In fact he felt the opposite; he loved his father so dearly that such a simple gesture gave him untold happiness. His father was, after all, Ryou's best and only friend. He had missed him terribly during his business trip.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You'll be sorry if I actually get it all cut off one of these days!" Before his amused father could reply, however, Ryou tugged excitedly at his shirt sleeve. "So, come on! Where's my present? What did you bring back this time to make up for abandoning me for five million weeks?"

"Ryou, leave your father alone, he has barely had time to put down his bags!" Ryou's mother emerged from the kitchen, shaking her head with tolerant amusement at her son's over-excitement. Leaning forward over the top of Ryou, she planted a chaste kiss on his father's mouth before placing both her hands on Ryou's shoulders. They were slender and soft, and smelled faintly of soap. "Hello, darling."

His father gave another chuckle, his eyes softening as he gazed at his wife, his expression intense. Ryou felt the familiar pang of jealousy at having lost the man's undivided attention.

"Father! Come and see my newest figurines!" He reached forward to again pluck at the taller man's sleeve, drawing his focus back to himself before he could reply to his wife. Ryou knew he was acting childish, but he had waited for so long for his father to return. It had been a lonely five weeks.

"Ryou," his mother sighed with slightly more exasperation.

"Here-" his father squatted down briefly, unzipping the vinyl satchel bag by his feet. "I'll give you this, for now, and then I'll bring you the rest of your presents later, and check out these new figurines of yours. But first of all I need a cup of coffee, before I _die_!" Ryou giggled at his father's dramatic claim, his large brown eyes widening as they caught the glimmer of gold from within the bag. His thoughts already began to forget about monopolizing the older man.

"I bought this for an incredibly low sum in Egypt. It's real gold, Ryou, so mind you keep it safe. The man who sold it to me told me it has great powers. I don't know about that, but it is definitely old and very valuable. I thought you might like it- I know how you love to collect things…"

His father's words barely penetrated Ryou's mind, absorbed as he was in the object his father was holding out. Indeed, all sound seemed to become muffled and still. It was a wheel- no, a ring. A ring of solid gold. Several small spikes hung off the object at regular intervals around the circumference, swinging and chiming dully when they struck one another. In the centre of the ring was a triangle of flat gold, the imprint of an eye stamped into the centre. "Oh… it's _beautiful_ ," Ryou whispered. He was not sure why his voice was so hushed, but the object demanded attention and reverence; to shout in its presence seemed… unthinkable. The object had been wrapped in thin tissue paper for its voyage, which his father was using to grasp it with; perhaps, like Ryou, he was loathe to touch the shining meal for fear of smudging it with oafish hands. Ryou held his hands out, palm-up, to receive the present; they were shaking slightly. As his father placed the ring onto his son's palms, a long thin strip of black leather slithered from the paper to swing loosely from the ring. _It's a necklace!_

Ryou swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat, his rich brown eyes flicking up to meet his fathers; so similar, but less intense than his son's. Ryou was not sure, but for a startling moment, his father looked grave and haggard. But no, surely he had imagined it, for now the older man was smiling and folding Ryou's fingers over the ring. "Well, do you like it?"

With a small jump, Ryou realised he had not spoken for several minutes, enraptured as he was by the object he now held. With a final glance at the ring, Ryou flung his arms around his father's neck, giving him a slightly embarrassed kiss on the cheek. All of a sudden, the heavy stillness that he had felt moments ago was broken.

"I love it! Thanks, Dad! This is amazing! It's so pretty! And _heavy!_ I promise I'll look after it!" His father chuckled and patted his son's back, pleased with the response, as Ryou pulled back to again stare at the object in his hand.

"Make sure you do. Now- why don't you go and find a suitable place to keep it? I'll be up soon, once I've had… my coffee." His father's eyes slid up past his son to lock with his wife's, causing a small flush of pink to tint her cheeks.

For once, Ryou didn't notice the exchange, or care.

"Sure thing! I know just the place to put it, too!" Grinning at his father, Ryou turned and bounded up the stairs, his cheeks flushed with the pleasure that comes with a new discovery.

* * *

"Now, if I just move these…" Ryou murmured to himself, using his free hand to gently push some figurines to one side of the shelf, "this should fit nicely… here." He placed the ring, still wrapped partially in the tissue paper, on the shelf, but almost immediately picked it up again. No, that was wrong. The white-haired teen shook his head, frustrated. He had tried putting the ring on every one of his shelves now, and in every case it looked… wrong. Unbefitting. Messy. He wanted to make his father proud; he wanted to treasure the ring. But he also wanted to see it. _Where can I put it that's safe, where I can look at it?_

His large brown eyes shifted to the space above his bed, where his dreamcatcher hung on a nail. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

 _That would be the best place for it, but father also gave me that dreamcatcher. It is supposed to keep bad dreams and spirits away. But-_ he gazed down at the ring in his hand, again enraptured- _This is far cooler!_

With sudden decisiveness, Ryou clambered onto his bed carefully, one hand held out to keep his balance on the springy surface, the other firmly grasping the tissue-wrapped ring. Reaching forward, he deftly plucked the dreamcatcher from the nail it was hanging from, letting it drop unceremoniously to the floor by his bed. Then, breath held in anticipation that he was not even aware he was feeling, Ryou looped the leather over the hook, and tugged the tissue paper off the artefact, finally freeing it from its wrappings entirely. It hung, heavy and dull in the unlit room, swaying ever slower until it came to a rest.

Ryou released his breath, a grin splitting his face. It looked _great_! The necklace was a good length, and the eye on the ring stared out across his bedroom like a sentinel. The spikes, now free, hung in perfect symmetry around the edge. It was a magnificent item. Ryou's chest felt tight with renewed love for his father; he had chosen well.

He decided to call his father up to look at the ring's new home. As he turned to hop off his bed, however, a small flash of white caught Ryou's attention. Turning back to the ring, the teen noticed a small white feather, likely from the dreamcatcher, had fluttered down to rest over the eye. It was only small, barely noticeable, but Ryou frowned and reached to brush it away with his fingers. The ring was too perfect to be marred by an errant feather.

As soon as his flesh met the cool metal, the teen felt a great shock of delighted rage pass through his mind. With a gasp, he pulled his fingers back as though burned, but the sensation had already subsided. Staring wonderingly at his own fingertips, Ryou, gulped, his heartbeat racing. _What on earth was that?_ The remembered rage made his skin clammy and he clenched his teeth without realising. His eyes slowly rose to take in the ring, hanging innocently on the wall in front of him.

"Ryou!" His mother's voice made him startle terribly. "Would you like some cake?"

The teen shook his head, clearing it. Had that even happened? "S-sure, Mum. I'll be right there."

Ryou climbed down off the bed and opened the door, glancing back one last time at the golden ring hanging quiet and peaceful on the wall. _I definitely imagined that. Right?_

* * *

That night, Ryou had the first nightmare.


	2. While You Were Sleeping

**I hope you enjoy this next chapter. As always, feel free to review/comment :)**

 **~ Jehbel**

* * *

The first thing Ryou noticed was that he was cold. Following that was the sudden realisation that he was no longer lying in his bed.

Looking around, the teen was surprised to see he was standing in the hallway of his house, midway between his room and his parents'. He was barefoot, the cuffs of his soft pyjama legs finishing just shy of his ankles. He would need a new pair soon; he had had a growth spurt lately. The hall was dark and silent, the faint ticking of the clock in the kitchen the only sound. It was the eerie, inky blackness of true night; it was not early morning - this was the witching hour.

Ryou blinked slowly, his mind still muddled from sleep. Why was he here? Had he been sleepwalking? He had done so occasionally as a small child but it had not happened for some time now. He felt distinctly odd, as though he had just woken from a terrible nightmare that he could not remember.

A shiver trickled down his scalp and spine, and Ryou hugged himself slightly, his mind turning to his bed. Still though, he stood, indecisive, swaying slightly in the hall. He knew he should simply walk back to his bedroom and go back to sleep, however something kept him from doing just that. Glancing over his shoulder toward his bedroom, he was overcome with an intense feeling of unease. The open doorway gaped like a deep toothless mouth and the utter lack of light within his room seemed sinister and full of faceless ghosts. No, he didn't want to go back to his room.

But where should he go? He couldn't stand out here all night.

Finally, with a half-shiver, half-shrug, the teen padded down the hall toward his parents' bedroom. Perhaps if he woke his mother or father, one of them would stay up with him for a while, or at least enter his bedroom first and prove his fears to be for nothing. His cheeks pinked slightly with faint embarrassment at having to go to his parents like a small child, but, if he was being honest with himself, he felt out of sorts and spooked. He wanted to see his father, and hear the reassurance of his voice. He wanted to smell the familiar scents of his mother and feel the heavy still warmth of their bedroom, which had always been somewhat sacred, mysterious and closed to visitors.

Ryou twisted the handle and pushed the door open on silent hinges. It was as dark and impenetrable in here as his own room, yet alive with the presence of his parents. It was dark, yes, but not scary. He could hear their deep steady breathing from beneath the mountain of blankets and pillows on their bed, and he followed the sound, coming to a stop by his father's side. The white-haired teen peered down with wide eyes at the indistinct sleeping form of his father in the darkness. He already felt soothed, cheered, by the sight of the man he adored so much.

"Father." He whispered the word, already knowing that it was too quiet to wake the man before him; his father was a very deep sleeper. He merely wanted to speak the word, to have this moment of peaceful silence to himself. Ryou smiled to himself, thinking about how reliable and dedicated his father was.

But wait.

Was he?

Ryou frowned a little, his eyebrows pulling together slightly, his rich brown eyes clouding.

 _Can I really rely on him?_ After all, this man had left, abandoned him, with barely a word of contact since, for five endless weeks. And it was not the first time; Ryou's father frequently travelled for work for upwards of a month at a time.

 _In fact, he's_ never _here! He probably prefers to travel than be home with us._ And indeed, why would he, when all he had to look forward to was a friendless and clingy son and a dull housewife?

Ryou clenched his fists with sudden emotion. _I bet he hates me. That's why he wanted to spend time with mother instead of me when he got home._ He knew he was being irrational, knew he was wrong to the depths of his core, but the thoughts continued to spew forth like thick bile, self-doubt and sudden loathing making his slender frame tremble. _He doesn't love me at all, does he? He can't wait to go away again! He's probably already planning his next trip! Why won't he stay here with us? He knows I need him! He knows we both need him! But he NEVER STAYS!_

With a sudden violent strength, Ryou's hands snapped out to wrap firmly and unerringly around his father's neck. He squeezed, and his hands, which he would never have thought large or strong enough to hurt his father, began to slowly and unforgivingly crush the breath from him. It felt amazing.

The sleeping man gave a great lurch, coming awake with a sense of sickening horror as he realised he couldn't breathe. His large hands came up to try and pry Ryou's smaller wrists away, but his son was in the midst of a mindless rage; his father could no more break his grip than move a mountain. His father's eyes were wide and horror-filled with understanding; his son was killing him. His own son. Mouth moving silently, Ryou's father wheezed and tried desperately to speak, to breathe, to communicate with his boy, but it was too late. He had awoken too late to stop it, and had been half-choked by the time he realised what was happening. The room, already dark, flickered and faded further from his vision. Only the final flash of his son's white hair remained like a faintly glowing candle in the darkness.

Ryou's teeth were bared, his rich brown eyes glaring with senseless hatred at the face of the man he had thought he adored so deeply. "Father," he hissed, his cheeks flushing almost purple with effort, "now you'll stay with us. Now you won't leave me. Stay!" He spat the last word like a curse, but quietly, ever so quietly. His mother, deeply asleep, had not stirred once; it had all happened so quietly and quickly.

Finally, so suddenly and easily, there was no more struggle. The large hands fell limp to the bed, and his father stared sightlessly at the ceiling with bloodshot and bulging eyes, his face frozen in a mask of terrified desperation. Only then did Ryou release his superhuman grip, allowing his own hands unclench painfully and stretch from their vicelike positions. "Oh, Father, Aren't you glad you get to stay with us, now?" Ryou whispered, delighted, his torso bent low and intimate over his father's prone form. "I'm sure Mother will be glad! We can all stay here, together." Then, straightening abruptly, Ryou threw his head back and began to laugh, high and maniacal. His hair bristled and he seemed to stand taller than usual. Across the bed, his mother woke suddenly, with a shrieking gasp to the nightmarish scene before her.

* * *

"Argh!" Ryou bolted upright in bed, his hand flying to his chest as he heaved deep, horrified breaths. His heart was thundering in his chest, his skin clammy with sweat. Gasping, the teen looked frantically around his room, the urge to simply run almost overwhelming his senses. Finally, he realised the obvious; _it was a dream. Oh my god, it was just a dream._ With this realisation and the tidal wave of relieved horror that accompanied it, the white-haired teen brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Before he could control himself, he was sobbing into his knees; he felt wrought, distressed, terrified. _Oh god, I killed Father! What… Why? Why would I dream about that? Oh god, it was so REAL…_ He could not banish from his mind the sense of delight and ease with which he had dispatched the man. _How did I even know how to do that? Why was it so easy?_ His body rippled with horrified shivers as his heart beat slowly faded to a slower, yet still frantic, rhythm. He felt terrible. Dirty. Evil. _What the hell was that? Oh my gosh, that was so horrible._ The room descended into a thick silence, broken only by the ragged breathing of the distraught young man.

Slowly, a new feeling began to penetrate Ryou's senses: pain. It was dull, but persistent. With a low grunt, Ryou sat straight, his hand drifting to his stomach where he could feel a faint stabbing. His fingers met something solid. Bewildered, he slipped a hand under his pyjama top, grasping the offending object gingerly, the other hand pulling his shirt up so that he could see what he was holding.

It was one of the spikes from the golden ring.

Bafflement and surprise were foremost in his mind. Eyebrows pinched in confusion, Ryou murmured, "what…?" He realised that not only was the ring under his shirt, but was in fact hanging around his neck by the familiar leather cord. Ryou looked behind him up onto the wall, where he had hung the ring the evening before, half-believing it may still be there; but of course, it was not, because he was wearing it.

 _When did I put this on? I must have done it in my sleep!_ He was utterly confused, and slightly frightened by this revelation, and he hastily pulled the ring off from around his neck, before checking it thoroughly to ensure it was not bent or damaged from being worn. But, it was as perfect as ever, and oddly cool to the touch considering it had been tucked under his shirt all night. _What a weird night! First a nightmare, and I obviously got up in my sleep and put this ring on._

As soon as he was free of the necklace, Ryou felt better. He had recovered from his disturbing dream, and the ring was no longer digging painfully into his stomach, and everything was alright. The ring was not damaged, and his father was not dead.

Right?

The teen shivered one last time, scrambling out of bed. He wanted to see his father, alive and well, _right now._ He knew it had been a bad dream, but all the same, he wouldn't be happy until he saw for himself that everything was fine. He threw the ring onto his bed with a faint thought to hanging it up again later; then, shrugging into his nightgown, for it was a bit cold that morning, Ryou hurried from the room, his thoughts still dwelling faintly on that horrible nightmare.

From its position on the bed, nestled amongst the unmade blankets, the ring seemed to gleam with an angry light.


	3. On My Mind

**Obligatory "I DO NOT OWN YUGIOH" statement! :)**

 **I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Next one is not far off, I had a productive day ;)**

 **~Jehbel**

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"Alright, alright, settle down please." The teacher's voice echoed feebly across the noisy classroom, barely heard over the chatter and gossip of the students, the clatter and screech of chairs being pulled out and shifted. Ryou sat quietly at his desk, scribbling idly on his notepad, trying and failing to ignore the cheerful merriment of his classmates as they interacted with one another; everyone, except of course, for him.

He had always been alone, ostracized, ignored. He didn't know why, or what he'd done to deserve it, and sometimes he was still struck with the incredulousness of being 'that kid'- there was one in every school, really, but when it became _you_ , when it was no longer an abstract thought but _real_ and happening to you… well, that was a different matter, wasn't it? It was lonely and sad and Ryou hated his schooling life. His one glimmer of hope, his ray of sunshine in the dreary existence of his education, was that he was not actively bullied. Sure, the other kids steered clear of him, and he was always chosen last for group activities and sports, but they did not pick on him. They were friendly, if standoffish. He had never been pranked, or bullied, or physically harmed; instead, he drifted through the school as insubstantially as smoke.

 _Actually, bullying might be better_ , he thought. At least then he'd know they could see him, occasionally thought of him, even if it was hateful thoughts.

Ryou sighed softly.

 _Smack._ A ball of paper struck his desk, rolling rapidly to tumble over the edge. Ryou startled slightly, his hand snapping out to catch the missile before it could strike the floor. Straightening, he turned to see a young man with floppy brown hair approaching his desk, grinning widely. "Good catch my man! Do you mind?" He held out a long slender hand.

Ryou bounced the paper gently in his palm before shrugging and tossing it back to the other student, who gave him a lazy salute in thanks before ambling away. _Well, that was the most exciting thing to happen to me all day,_ Ryou thought, resting his chin in his palm and watching as the young man returned to his friends, flicking the ball of paper from one to another with the casual ease and dexterity of youth. He envied them their happiness and surety; for now, in this moment, they were the top dogs, the popular favourites, and their lives would always be untouchable and perfect. Ryou wondered if it was a comforting feeling or if they too experienced the pressure and woes of growing up, if they felt the need to always perform and present to others' expectations.

Finally, the teacher had the classroom under some semblance of control. "Right," she huffed, pushing a sweaty lock of hair from her forehead; Ryou had a feeling she wouldn't last too long, this new teacher- she had all the signs already of somebody who was not cut out for the trying task of controlling children. "Class, our next project will be an oral presentation-" Several less mature students sniggered loudly at this- "and you will be broken into groups of three. I will choose the groups, and no arguments on this!" Several students were already groaning comically, the comedians in the class clutching at each other dramatically and wailing about being inseparable. Ryou didn't really mind; it meant that he would be given a group and not chosen by his peers, so he didn't have to go through the indignity of being chosen last, alongside the girl who always had head lice.

Noise again erupted amongst the class as the teacher reeled off names for the groups, as students high-fived with glee or loudly protested in good humour as they found out their groupmate's names. "Next group, will be… Maya, Ryou and Cole." Ryou looked up as his name was called, across to where Maya sat. She was a very nice girl with long wavy hair in the most unusual mint-green colour, which although odd, was apparently natural. Ryou quite liked Maya; she was always friendly toward him and occasionally smiled or said hello when they passed in the halls. She was one of the few people in his school who seemed to acknowledge him as a person. Ryou gave her a tentative smile, which she sweetly returned, before standing up to gather his belongings. Moving silently through the excitable groups of students, Ryou approached Maya's desk. The girl favoured him with another smile before moving her books and pencils to the side.

"Heya there, group mate!" she gestured for Ryou to put his books down on the edge of her desk in the space she had just made, and the white-haired teen pulled up a chair to sit near her.

"Hello, Maya. How have you been? Did you have a nice weekend?" Ryou blushed slightly at his awkward small talk; he hated that he was so unsure around others.

"Oh yes, I had a lovely weekend! I went to visit my gran, and we did some baking. Oh! Here-" Maya leaned to the side suddenly, plunging a hand into her backpack. Moments later she emerged triumphant, holding a small Tupperware container. "Would you like a cookie? To be honest I'm sick to death of them, I've been eating them all day!" Maya gave a tinkling laugh and peeled back the lid to reveal several fat cookies nestled in the container. A delicious smell wafted out and Ryou gulped a little.

"They smell great, Maya. Are you sure it's ok…?" his hand hovered just outside the box, hesitant to take a cookie.

Maya grinned. "Go right ahead. I have another whole batch at home to get through still."

Ryou smiled in reply. "Don't mind if I do, then. Thank you." Maya merely shrugged a little in response as Ryou removed a cookie and nibbled on the edge. It tasted as good as it smelled. "These are fantastic! Where did your gran get the recip-"

"Now, now, where's my cookie? You getting started on the bribery already? I like the way you think!" the voice interrupted Ryou mid-question and both he and Maya looked up at the newcomer; it was the same boy from earlier who had thrown the paper ball, wandering over with nonchalance. "Heya, it's my paper man!" He gave Ryou a toothy grin and a small wave, before turning to Maya. "Well, as the only girl, you must be Maya. I'm Cole, and, so, process of elimination, you're Ryou, huh?" Ryou flushed a little at Cole's easy manner, jealous of the other teen's innate confidence and cheerfulness. Nodding shyly, Ryou continued to chew on his cookie as Cole pulled up a chair and engaged Maya in conversation. _Well, at least he's friendly. And I like Maya, so hopefully this group won't be too bad to work with,_ he thought to himself, watching as Cole laughed confidently at something Maya had said. He felt a small surge of hope build in his gut. _Maybe they'll even become my friends!_ He thought with faint excitement. Absentmindedly he began to scribble in his notepad again, barely paying attention to what he was drawing as he eavesdropped on his teammates' conversation. He wished he could join in, but wasn't sure exactly how to do so.

Suddenly, the white-haired teen was startled from his reverie by Maya's voice, close to his ear. "Oh! That's an interesting design; what is it?" Following her gaze, Ryou looked down at his notepad where he had been absentmindedly scribbling. He hadn't been paying attention and expected to see some nonsensical scribble sprawled across his page.

Instead, he was staring at an eerily lifelike depiction of the golden ring.

Ryou stared, transfixed, his scalp feeling like someone had poured icy jelly over it, the shiver continuing down his spine. The ring was drawn with perfect proportion, the line work precise and detailed. It almost appeared to jump off the page. The spikes all hung in perfect symmetry, so realistic he wanted to touch them to make sure they weren't actually lying there on his page. The ring was solid and perfect, appearing to gleam with light, the eye in the middle staring directly at the dumbfounded Ryou. Oddly, in the spaces between the ring itself and the triangle section in the middle, Ryou had scribbled multiple eyes glaring out, their fury and hunger evident even in the basic strokes of ink he had used.

The white haired teen could only gape. "I…. I…" the eyes seemed almost alive, their collective gaze sinking into Ryou's mind, stalling his thoughts and pinning him in place. Faintly, he was aware of his ears beginning to ring.

Suddenly, Maya reached across to tug the notepad toward her, breaking the spell it seemed to have thrown over Ryou. "This is very good. What is it? Is this a real thing?" Ryou blinked a few times, bringing himself back to the present. Inexplicably, he had felt a momentary rush of rage as Maya pulled the book away from his gaze.

"Uh, y-yes. It's a necklace my father bought for me, in Egypt. I only got it a couple of days ago." Maya raised her eyebrows with keen interest, running her fingers along the lines of the drawing, tracing them slightly. "The real ring is made of gold."

"Well, you've drawn it very well. Do you wear it?" Her red-brown eyes flicked to Ryou's chest.

Ryou shook his head. "No, I have it hanging on my wall in my room. I… I don't think I'd suit wearing something that nice." He flushed slightly at the embarrassing confession.

Maya flicked a glance at Ryou and smiled faintly. "Well, I think you should wear it. If it's anything like this necklace you've drawn here, I think you'll look really cute wearing it." Her cheeks pinked at this, but she remained gazing at Ryou with a shy smile. "Will you wear it one day, so I can see?" she cocked her head to the side prettily.

Ryou almost stopped breathing, his face shifting from pale white to deep red faster than a stop light. He wasn't sure what to say. _Did she just call me cute?_ He felt utterly ridiculous, but he couldn't speak. Instead, looking down at his book with a flaming face, he merely nodded in reply to Maya's question. Behind her, Cole sniggered slightly.

"Great! I can't wait to see it! Oh… Ryou-" the white haired teen glanced up at Maya, who suddenly wore a slightly concerned expression. In that moment, he realised, she was beautiful.

"… Ryou, your nose is bleeding."


	4. Mindless

**_Hello everyone!_**

 ** _I hope you are enjoying the story so far... I know that not a lot has happened yet but that'll change I promise :) So please, review/comment/request/suggest, gimme love, gimme hate, whatever! (Love is preferred to hate haha)_**

 ** _Enjoy, and thank you again for your readership *sends interweb kisses*_**

 ** _~Jehbel_**

* * *

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 _Rage._

 _All he can feel is rage. It pricks at his skin like icy pins, scritching and scratching angry thin lines across his pale skin like razor-sharp spider legs. He grits his teeth and allows it to take him over, to permeate his being. It makes him stronger, harder._

 _He stands, running a hand fitfully through his thick white hair. He has taken on his Host's appearance; it's easier this way, and not so different to his once-flesh form. Smaller, weaker, younger, but still healthy and able. His eyes, the same rich chocolate, glare around him between his bone-white bangs. He looks about. A room has formed. It is cold and empty, walls of bricks, lit only by the flickering yellow that would come from a candle._

 _Or a fire._

 _Oooh yes, a fire. A raging inferno, consuming all in its path. His family, his friends, his home. Oh yes, they felt the fire. They felt_ his _fire._

 _Aknamkanon._

 _The memory of the name fills him with rage anew; his fists clench by side until his knuckles are bloodless and aching. He paces like a caged cat, his teeth bared in a silent snarl against his dark thoughts. The room wavers, then takes on a more solid appearance. He is distracted by this._

 _\So, this is my Soul Room._

 _He knows it as naturally as he knows how to breathe. It has always been so with the Millennium Items- it was how he was able to lock himself away in the first place. It changes every time, reflective of the spirit who uses it. He had not expected that he would lose himself for so long when he locked himself away. He has seen through his Host's eyes and he knows this world is nothing like his old one; it is new, and full of lightness and frivolity. His Host knows nothing of pain or hatred; he may think he knows sadness, but it is the silly sadness of the privileged, not_ _real_ _._

 _\He never saw his family burn. But I'll make him feel my anguish before I take him._

 _"Bakura". He speaks aloud, the velvet voice almost startling him in the oppressive silence of his Soul Room. It has gone unused for so long. "Bakura." His voice is odd; what is his Host's dialect? He cocks his head to the side, like an inquisitive fox, considering._

 _"My name…_ _Our_ _name, is Bakura." He grins now, and adjusts his appearance ever so slightly. Taller. Slightly more solid. His hair bristles and cascades down his back in a thick mane. He always had untamed hair. Eyeteeth, slightly sharper, longer. Good._

 _His thoughts turn outward._

 _"Little Host. Aknamkanon may be long dead to this world, and I may have been robbed of my revenge, but you will be my gateway. I shall use you, and destroy this world with all the might of the Ancients. Thank you so much for your… hospitality." He sniggers, then giggles. Finally, a harsh bark of laughter escapes, and he spreads his arms wide as though in supplication._

 _He is ready to begin._

* * *

.

.

Ryou began the long walk back home, his backpack hoisted high on his shoulders as he leaned into the fresh breeze. His thoughts were full of the day's events; his group activity with Maya and Cole was going well, and he was faintly hopeful. Cole, being a natural and obvious leader, had early on taken charge of the trio, and the white-haired teen was only too happy to take his advice and suggestions. Maya likewise was happy to take direction and the three had been working well together, joking about and sometimes losing track of the task because they had been caught up simply talking.

Maya had sat with Ryou at lunch, a first for the shy boy, and he had spent the entire period flushing to the roots of his hair and searching for something to say. Maya, for her part, had sat in a happy silence next to him, chattering away about anything and everything between bites of her bento and barely seeming to expect a response from him.

Ryou wasn't sure how to respond to Maya. She was clearly friendly and maybe slightly flirty with both he and Cole, but he could not bring himself to take it seriously. After all, she had never really had time for him before now, so she was clearly just trying to make the group project run smoothly. It was no more than that.

 _"_ _I think you'll look really cute wearing it."_ She had said that, hadn't she? He recalled with faint embarrassment that afternoon when she had questioned him about the drawing, and his nose had bled. _Gods, I must have looked like a fool! My nose never usually bleeds; I don't know what brought that on._ Something tugged at the back of his mind however, and unbidden, a vision of those furious glaring eyes he had drawn came back to him. They had pulled him in, tugged at his attention, until he had been fixated, hadn't they? He remembered the heavy silence that had fallen over his hearing, and his sluggish reflexes. Ryou shivered slightly, wondering what might have happened if Maya hadn't have broken his concentration. Would he have just sat there staring at the page all afternoon? Surely they would have thought he was broken in the head. _Thank goodness she startled me then! I don't want people to think I'm even stranger than they already do._

Ryou's pace slowed slightly, and he moved absentmindedly to the side of the footpath to let others past as he came to a stop, considering. Ryou turned slowly to peer at his own reflection in a nearby shop window, not really taking in the image but merely recalling the sensations he had experienced when he stared down at that startlingly-lifelike drawing of the ring. He had been transfixed. He felt a faint twinge of unease at the realisation. _Is that normal? Why would I become so obsessed with a drawing?_ He thought about the flash of rage he had felt as Maya had taken the book from him. What was that? It wasn't like him to react in such a way. His brows furrowed and he tapped a slender finger against his lip as he considered this point. The anger he had felt was unlike him. It had been flash-pan hot, full of enmity and possibly… glee? Yes, he rather thought it had felt like delighted rage.

His scalp prickled slightly with an icy shiver. He had felt that way once before, hadn't he? That night- the night he had touched the ring, and then, then… he had had that dream. He shuddered at the recollection; it had been so _vivid_. He could still recall with absolute clarity every second of that nightmare. His hands, so strong, not his own. Crushing, squeezing, his teeth bared with effort and rage-

"-KID!"

Ryou started terribly, his head snapping up and around toward the source of the yelling. A large man was standing beside him, uncomfortably close, a stained green apron marking him as a shopkeeper, his beefy hands firmly planted on his hips as he scowled at the teen in front of him. Ryou gave a small gasp of surprise at his proximity and stumbled backward, stuttering. "I-I-I'm sorry; I didn't see you there."

The man's eyebrows drew low and his scowl if possible became even deeper. He had a cigarette clenched between his teeth, dangling at a precarious angle from the corner of his mouth. "Kid, I was hollerin' at ya for the past five minutes. I was sayin', if yer wantin' to buy something, you got three minutes before I close, 'therwise I advise you piss off and quit starin' in and makin' everyone uncomfortable." Ryou realised he had been staring through the window mindlessly this entire time, and he flushed pinkly with embarrassment.

"I apologise, Sir. I was just… caught up. Thinking. I'll go now." The man's angry expression softened ever so slightly, and he wearily flapped a hand at the teen in dismissal, grunting in reply. Ryou turned and hoisted his bag, and took a few steps before stopping.

Something was different, wrong. Ryou peered about him in mild confusion, wondering what had changed. Somebody pushed past him roughly and the white-haired teen stepped back out of the flow of pedestrian traffic. _That man. He had a suit on._ Ryou looked about and realised that not only had the amount of people increased, but they were mostly adults in business attire, heading home. He couldn't see any other students around.

Bewildered, Ryou whipped his head around, trying to catch sight of any other students; there had been plenty walking this way with him just before; surely they hadn't all cleared out so quickly? Usually students would loiter and take their time heading home, caught up in chatting, flirting and arguing right up until almost dinner time. At the thought of food, Ryou's stomach gave a great gurgle and he rubbed it slowly, his thoughts jumbled. He looked down at his stomach, his hand an orange tinge from the afternoon sun.

 _Wait a moment…. Afternoon sun?_ Ryou looked up now, and realised what was so different, that he had been unable to put his finger on.

It was almost dusk.

 _What…?_ He was utterly confused. It almost looked like it was six o'clock, not four o'clock when he had finished school! But there was no denying it- the afternoon shadows were stretching longer and longer like dark tendrils, and even in this last minute or two the amount of people had increased further, all weary adults heading home from work. Ryou swallowed past a suddenly very difficult lump in his throat and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. Turning with sudden franticness, Ryou scurried over to the beefy shopkeeper, who was carefully folding up his display sign from the front of his shop.

"Excuse me, Sir," Ryou called softly, his voice sounding panicked even to him. He tried desperately to calm himself down as the burly man turned to examine him, his expression unimpressed. "I, uh, I was just wondering… how long… I was staring for?"

The man raised a sardonic eyebrow, his mouth twitching slightly with amusement. "Kid, why d'ya think I told ya to piss off? You were standin' there for a good two hours. Just standin'. Freaked me out, to be honest. Me an' all my staff. We thought you were off yer tree, swayin' and talkin' to yerself like that." Shaking his head, the man heaved the sign up and walked it inside, muttering something unintelligible about pesky kids.

Ryou stood rooted to the spot, his eyes wide. He had suspected the man would say something like that, but he was still shocked to his core to hear it out loud. _I stood there for two whole hours? Just stood, staring? How did I not notice that?_

 _\Because you were thinking about the ring, Ryou._

Ryou jumped a little at the thought, and then shook his head. _No. I was just distracted. I haven't been sleeping so well lately, and I'm just tired. I might have even nodded off. It had nothing to do with the ring._ He shivered slightly as he remembered that he had been reliving the choking of his father in his sleep.

Only remembering, right? Not… _revelling_ in the memory…? Ryou shrugged angrily as though to shake off his sense of deep unease. That odd thought came back to him and he scowled in rejection.

 _It has NOTHING to do with the ring._

* * *

 _._

 _._

 _A chuckle, echoing in the cold expressionless room._

 _"Oh, my Host. You're correct, there. It has nothing to do with the ring."_

 _He reclines against a sharp cold platform; his Soul Room has taken on more features. He sniggers again, almost lazily. Nearby, the outline of a door appears against the brick wall, gleaming momentarily golden. Then, the light fades, and the door slowly creaks open, nothing but the blackest of pitch beyond its gaping entryway._

 _He smoothly rises to his feet, his expression amused and curious. He glides toward the door, expression savagely expectant. "But this Ring, and what it can see and do... well, my little Host, it'll make you wish you were dead. I can promise you that."_


	5. A Warning

**Hi guys, thank you for your reviews. They are the highlight of my day! :) I have been very productive today writing this new chapter and also a new chapter for Golden.**

 **I apologise in advance that this story will be a bit slow at times, as I need to build it up. I do hope you stick with it! and, I hope you enjoy!**

 **~Jehbel**

* * *

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.

Ryou stood in a field, his long hair whipping around him in a strong gust. But this was like no field he had ever seen- it was enormous, stretching as far as the eye could see, and completely barren of features except for a low soft plant growing in a thick carpet over the soil. The plant was grey, as was the sky, and all he could see for miles was endless colourless nothing. It was bleak.

It was also freezing. Ryou wrapped his arms around his slender form, rubbing his palms over the bare skin to try and friction some warmth back into his body. He looked around, and for the first time wondered where he was, and why.

 _"You're here because I invited you."_ The voice made him jump, and he tried to turn to the source of the sound, but it was all around him; it was as though God himself were talking to Ryou.

 _"Not a god,"_ the voice giggled, and the small teen jumped again.

"Who-"

 _"Who am I? I am nobody; I am everybody. I am you, Ryou Bakura."_

"What-"

 _"You do not need to speak aloud. I know. I hear."_

 _\Who are you, really? I don't understand. Where am I?_

 _"This is You, Ryou. This is inside you. I am merely using what you supply."_

Ryou looked around with faint dismay at the bleak and lifeless field.  
 _\This is inside me? It's so… empty. There's nothing here!_

 _"Yes, well, are you surprised? What is in your life but emptiness, my Host?"_

The breeze picked up; it tossed his hair about in wild disarray. By his feet, the thick grey plant moved and crept about as though it weighed nothing. His stomach knotted tightly at the unseen person's words, but they were not yet finished. The voice moved closer; it was as though they were standing beside him now. The temperature dropped further and his skin erupted in goosebumps.

 _"Yes indeed, RyouBakuraHost. You have nothing in your life but emptiness. This place should be filled with the colours of love; love of family, love of friends. It should be saturated with hope and lust and dreams, or even flickering with the shadows of fear and hatred. But you… why, your place is full of flat grey nothing. Do you long for colours? Do you enjoy this emptiness?_

Ryou hung his head, the words piercing him like little knives, digging deep into his inner doubts and worries. He felt tears prick his eyes, the wind whipping them away and drying them faster than he could produce the moisture.

He felt the Other's glee emanating around him. _"No. You are nothing. You care for nothing, don't you? You're a shell."_

The young teen could not answer, and he remained in place, simply staring with empty eyes at the swirling shifting moss covering the ground. He felt ill; the voice was like poison, creeping through his veins.

 _"I can help you, Ryou. Would you like me to colour this world of yours?"_ The voice was ever closer, and sweeter now. Ryou did not respond, his eyes watching the moving greyness. Vaguely, it occurred to him it was not so plant-like at all.

 _"Give Me your body; give Me your Self, and I will colour your mind with all that life can offer, Ryou. Submit to me, and I'll DRENCH this place with reds and blacks and yellows; with fear and power and lust."_ Closer, closer, it was now almost whispering in his ear. Intoxicating, the words were like foul fruit; their sweetness covered an underlying sickness that was rotting them away from the inside.

Ryou stood rooted in place, trembling like a startled deer. He could not escape the voice, the vivid mental imagery it was forcing into his mind, but he tried to block it out, watching as the greyness at his feet swirled and twisted and crept up his ankles. He realised now it was not a plant; how silly of him to ever have thought it was.

 _"All you have to do is give up, Ryou. You're so close already. Your soul is weakened; your mind drifts. Surely you do not need to Be any more? Give over to me, my Host, and enable me. Become my vessel, become my Partner. Become my aibou."_

 _\…Smoke._

He could not see the invisible speaker, but he felt it physically recoil at this word. Turning his face upward, Ryou could feel a faint drop in the blustering winds; he could see the particles in the air. Ash.

 _"What did you say?"_

 _\You heard me. You hear all and know all,_ _right? This is smoke. This entire field is… is smoke. So there is something here, something to me, isn't there?_ He heard the voice hiss with anger, and move away from him again. Ryou scowled. _\You come here, and say these things to me, but you don't even show yourself. Who are you? Even if you're a part of me, you must have a body? A form?_

The disembodied voice growled, then chuckled cruelly. _"Very well"._

The smoke began to shift; faster and faster, it withdrew from around his feet, coalescing rapidly at a point just in front of Ryou. From all over the field it came; the smoke flowed in a rapid and insubstantial stream, drawing from as far away as Ryou could see. It solidified, and slowly grew, elongated, until a distinctly human shape began to form before him. Where the smoke had lay thick and still over the ground, now Ryou could see yellowed and crumbling bricks; distantly, he could make out a great high wall of the same brick material. It seemed to be getting closer, as though the field were shrinking and contracting; the wall even now was all around him, the sky darkening as even overhead he became enclosed in the brick barrier.

The trail of smoke thinned and eventually, disappeared altogether, amassing itself in the shape in front of him. Suddenly, Ryou could see features in the smoke; first of all, eyes, large and the same rich brown as his own, but glaring fixedly at his own face. A nose; lips too. The outline of hair, shaggy and unkempt, longer than his own, no colour defined yet. Ryou watched, spellbound, as eventually the figure stood before him, clarified. "What…?" Ryou murmured, his eyes large with surprise.

It was himself. But, it was also not him. This person was taller, more solidly built. His hair, the same startling white shade as his own, was longer and thicker, with uneven lengths sticking out at odd angles. His eyes glared with a white-hot rage and his teeth appeared to be slightly pointed. He was greater, more beautiful and more terrible than Ryou would ever be.

 _"Are you surprised? I did say that I was you, after all."_ The being crossed his arms, glaring with savage amusement at Ryou's reaction to him.

Ryou did not know how to answer; this was beyond him, beyond his understanding. He could feel though, to his very bones, that this being was not of him; he was something different, foreign.

Something dangerous.

 _"You have no idea._ " The being replied, answering Ryou's unspoken thought. _"What I am, and where I came from, it matters little. What does matter is that you are my Host now, and you will give yourself over to me. When I am finished, I may even give you back your body intact."_ His doppelganger gave a feral grin, taking a stalking step toward him; Ryou on instinct retreated a step.

Ryou shook his head, fear beginning to trickle down his spine. This creature may _look_ like him, but it was completely and utterly different. It was dangerous, and it wanted to control him. "No… No. I am sorry, but no. You can't just use my body like a puppet." His voice, spoken out loud, sounded weak and high with fear.

 _"You have no choice. I will take it whether you say so or not. But if you give yourself over willingly, I will not destroy you. You should thank me really, that I brought you here to give you warning."_

"I'm dreaming. This is a dream, right now, and you're not real." Ryou shook like a rabbit, his large brown eyes wide as the Other prowled around him like a circling shark. It chuckled at his words, low and measured.

 _"Oh yes, believe that if it helps you. Believe whatever you want to believe. If-"_ His words were cut off suddenly, the being cocking his head and scowling as he looked up at the ceiling. Ryou could hear it too, a faint shrill ringing, growing ever-louder. Ryou looked about, bewildered; the smell of smoke became stronger as the being suddenly began to dissolve. _"Remember this, little one- I WILL have your body, and I WILL use it as I desire. So, make your departure easier on yourself and come to me willingly. I will have your answer tomorrow night."_ The glaring brown eyes flashed momentarily crimson. _"Tomorrow, Ryou."_ The voice echoed oddly around him, bouncing off the dull brick; his body was gone, leaving nothing but vapour and smoke around him, becoming thicker and darker by the second. Ryou coughed, looking around frantically for signs of a fire, but he was alone in the empty brick room.

"What is this place? H-Hey! Where are you? How do I get out? Help!" The ringing was louder now, almost too loud to tolerate, creating a sense of dreadful urgency. He had to get out, _now._ Something bad would happen if he stayed in this room. He could barely see through the smoke, his eyes watering furiously, his throat raw. Stumbling blindly through the thick air, Ryou saw the outline of a door appear in the brickwork, its outline flaring briefly with yellow light. Stomach knotting in terrified relief, the teen ran toward it, one hand reaching to grasp the handle, his other tightly grasping his blanket for dear life.

Wait- his blanket?

Ryou looked around, bewildered. He was in his room, standing by the window. He had pushed the panes open with one hand and his torso was leaning out, his arm outstretched as he reached into open air. He was wrapped in the blanket off his bed, his spare hand keeping it bunched tightly around him. It was the grey-blue shadowed darkness of early morning; even now he could hear the occasional bird whistle as the world began to wake up. The ringing went on and on; his alarm was wailing at him to wake up and get ready for school. Dazed, confused, Ryou wandered back to his bed, absentmindedly pushing the snooze button to cut off the horrible racket. He sat on the bed, his eyes wide. _It really was just a dream. Wow._ He looked about his room with unseeing eyes, remembering the vividness of the nightmare, the strange alter ego he'd spoken to.

Shaking his head, Ryou stood, wavering slightly, disoriented and still frightened from the nightmare. _Why have I been dreaming such crazy things lately?_ He scratched at his head with confusion, mussing his white mane as he did so. The faint smell of smoke drifted about and he realised with a jolt that it clung to his skin and clothes; whipping around, the teen looked about his room, but could see no sign of a real fire. _What…? Why? Why do I smell all smoky if it was just a dream?_ Ryou again felt the tickles of fear down his spine and he shivered all over. _This is too weird. Maybe- maybe I just walked in my sleep, and… and there was some smoke, or something._ Even in his own mind it was a flimsy excuse.

"Arrgh!" He scrubbed at his hair with both hands in explosive frustration, as though to shake the smoke from it, and perhaps clear his mind of his confusion and fear. "This is ridiculous!"

The teen padded into the bathroom, determined to wash the smell from his hair. _Put it from your mind. It was just a dream, nothing more._ He determinedly ignored the fact that he was avoiding looking in the mirror, as afraid that he may not recognise what he saw in the reflection.

He was only very barely surprised to find that the ring was round his neck again.

As he bathed, the hot water slowly eased his fear, and removed the horrid memories of the nightmare along with the lingering odour of smoke.

Ryou put his face under the steaming flow of water, working hard to keep his mind blank, absorbing only the sensations of the heat and steam.

With all his might, he ignored the chuckling of the water as it drained into the plug, sounding so very similar to the laughter of a dangerous being, a thousand miles away in a dark cold nightmare.

 _Tomorrow, Ryou._


	6. Family Ties

**Hello Possums,**

 **Sorry for the delay in posting- I have been experiencing 'writers block' :'(**

 **BUT I'M BACK BABY! And this is a longer chapter by way of apology.**

 ****** AUTHOR'S NOTE *******

 **As mentioned, some of this story comes directly from the manga, and other parts are purely fantasy made up by yours truly.**

 **Ryou's father has never been given a name, not even in the manga, so I chose Arihiro. It is a bold name that means willpower, authority and leadership.**

 **Ryou's mother and sister Amane did die in a car accident in the manga, however his father did not remarry in the original.**

 **Enjoy! And as always, feel free to comment/review ^.^**

* * *

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"Mother, may I please sleep over at a friend's house tonight? Three of us are working on a presentation together at school and need to practice our lines." Ryou moved about the table, collecting the various utensils and dishes from breakfast. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mother staring with surprise, her eyes flicking to meet his equally amazed father. He knew it was an odd-sounding request; he had never even really had friends, never mind visited anybody's house before. Even to himself it sounded strange, alien; he half wondered if she would say no simply out of shock.

But, when Ryou looked up again, his mother's kind green eyes were twinkling with happiness. "Of course you can, Ryou. Do you need me to speak with his mother? How will you get home tomorrow? Should I pick you up?"

" _Her_ mother- and no I don't think so, unless you want to speak with her? I will just walk home, it's not too far from here, and I don't have cram school on Saturday so I don't need to rush back." Ryou ignored his mother's raised eyebrows at the revelation that he was visiting a girl- after all, they were group mates, and Maya's house was the closest to school, making it the easiest place for all three of them to meet. It was nothing more than that.

"Alright. I suppose that's fine. But if Maya's parents are around make sure you are polite and don't overstay your welcome. You will be sleeping in different rooms, I suppose?" Ryou's mother tried in vain to hide her wide grin behind a mock stern expression, and Ryou flushed in embarrassment at her obvious glee at the situation. Rolling his eyes and nodding in response, the teen ran a hand through his

 _[Smoky]_

hair and absentmindedly straightened a placemat, his mind elsewhere. He was slightly nervous about visiting Maya's house- how should he act? Where would they sit? What if he did something embarrassing, or worse, insulting? He knew he was being foolish, but he wanted so badly to be friends with his classmates that he would have worn a bright pink flamingo suit if it would make them like him. He grinned at the image of himself wearing a flamingo suit- okay, maybe he wouldn't go quite that far. He was simultaneously disappointed yet oddly pleased that Cole would be joining them on the sleep over; he wasn't sure if he could handle being alone with Maya, even if her mother were to permit it in the first place.

Ryou had almost forgotten about Maya's sleepover invitation and had intended to turn it down out of shyness, however after the night he'd had, he had immediately messaged her that morning accepting her offer. On a deeper level, he was terrified of being alone that night. While he knew it had merely been a nightmare, the vividness of his dream the night before had rattled him and he felt quite sure that being away from his bedroom for a while would clear his mind of the lingering worry and fear he had experienced. He was determined not to enter the weekend

 _[tomorrow, Ryou]_

with negativity; he was hoping his new Duel Monsters cards would arrive while he was at school and he could break them in. He had only recently began to show an interest in the game, but being an avid collector, Ryou was delighted by the many numerous playing cards available, and the combinations they could be put to. He perked up a little as he envisaged the team he would put together once he had enough cards; he was particularly fond of the beast cards, such as Big Koala or Ape Fighter.

"Ryou, are you going to wear that at school? Mind the cord doesn't break and you lose it." Ryou's father eyed his son from his position hunched over a small faded book, an open notepad beside him where he took notes as he read at the table. Ryou blinked once or twice before realising what his father meant; he glanced down at the ring hanging around his neck. It dimly occurred to him that the weight of the gold ring, heavy and solid in hand, could barely be felt when he was wearing it. It was almost as though it became lighter for its wearer- ridiculous as that sounded. The white-haired teen wrinkled his nose in faint irritation at the sight of the polished gold object; was _sure_ he had removed it after his shower early that morning, but obviously it had slipped his mind.

"Sure, Dad. I think I'll leave it at home, actually." Ryou with deliberate care removed the necklace, pulling it up and over his head so that it was now hanging by its cord from his clenched fist. His father nodded absently in response, his eyes watching the necklace as it swayed slightly. Ryou, suddenly feeling more cheerful, grinned at his father and made his way upstairs to collect a change of clothes and his school bag, pausing briefly only to throw the ring deliberately onto the middle of his bed on the way out.

As Ryou made to leave the room, a sudden flare of golden light cast his shadow momentarily across the wall beside him: his outline seemed unnaturally large, the shape of his hair longer and wilder than it was in reality. Ryou blinked with surprise, but as quickly as it had appeared, the light was gone, his shadow nothing but a spot in his vision every time he blinked. Ryou paused, but did not turn around. His heart was beating a little faster, his knuckles white where he grasped his overnight bag.

"No. I'm not interested. I'm leaving." His voice echoed slightly in his still bedroom, high and wavering a little. He wasn't sure who he was talking to; he hoped it was just himself listening. Determinedly, he fixed his thoughts on the day of school ahead, and his excitement at sleeping over at Maya's that night. "It'll be fine."

His door closed with a resolute _click_ , emphasising the statement.

* * *

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.

Arihiro Bakura hummed quietly to himself as he pored over the small threadbare book in his hands. The script was difficult to decipher, and badly faded, but it contained an incredible amount of information and the white-haired man felt he was close to pinpointing his next survey destination. Arihiro was what was known as a 'retriever'- he searched the globe for ancient relics and texts to bring back to whichever museum or collector had employed him. It was difficult work, demanding and often under-appreciated, but for the older man, the thrill of the hunt outweighed all the negatives. He was often wracked by guilt over leaving his wife and Ryou alone for months on end, but he inevitably always ended up accepting new jobs; it was in his bones to travel.

With a sigh, the weary researcher leaned back, stretching his arms over his head and yawning loudly. The house was empty; Ryou had left for school over an hour ago and his wife was out running errands. There was an absolute stillness to the house, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock in the kitchen. Arihiro closed his eyes and luxuriated in the tranquil quiet. He rarely had a chance to work by himself, surrounded as he always was by his field helpers, other researchers and historians. Not having to speak or be spoken to was quite a treat.

Ryou wouldn't be home that night. Arihiro smiled slightly to himself; he felt oddly sad that Ryou was growing up. After worrying about his son for so long and wishing that the small boy would one day make good friends, now that Ryou was doing exactly that, his father felt slightly bittersweet about it all. _Ah, I suppose that's the curse of being a father; your son will one day no longer need you._ His thoughts drifted as he imagined Ryou as an adult; would he keep his hair long? He could envisage his slender boy standing tall and calm; Ryou would be a caring and thoughtful man.

Arihiro's eyebrows knitted with grief as he thought of Amane; Ryou's sister would never have a chance to grow up like her older brother. _She was such a bright child. She would be a little lady by now,_ he thought. The loss of his first wife Rise had been terrible; losing Amane at the same time had nearly destroyed him. _Maybe that's why I can never stay at home for too long._ Ryou and Amane had been so similar as to almost be twins; every time he looked at his son, Arihiro was reminded of the shadow of the daughter he would never see again. Meeting his new wife had been a godsend for Arihiro- even Ryou now called her Mother. He had been so young when Rise and Amane died in the accident that he barely remembered them, but his father had still been immensely relieved when his son had accepted his new mother; it eased the family's pain a little.

 _Ah, I am maudlin today._ Arihiro stood, shaking his head. He smirked a little with self-depreciating humour. _I have some time to myself for the first time in months and the first thing I do is dwell on sad memories._ Snorting softly, he flipped the small book shut and placed it neatly atop his notepad, before vaguely looking toward the kitchen- perhaps he would make some toast or something.

Instead, the tall man turned and made his way slowly upstairs, his hand trailing along the bannister as he climbed to the next floor. He had half a mind to take a nap; his thoughts were sluggish and thick with distraction today. _This is probably the real reason I can never stay home for long- I get bored too easily,_ he thought wryly.

Arihiro paused at his bedroom door, however, his hand resting on the knob, his eyes unfocused. He felt… indecisive. Unbidden, he turned his head to stare at Ryou's bedroom door. _Why am I feeling so… out of sorts?_ The older man frowned slightly, his expression slightly irritable. Finally, with a _tsk_ of frustration, Arihiro turned and strode down the small hall, opening the door and stepping decisively into Ryou's room. Perhaps it was the sombre thoughts he'd had earlier, but the father felt the need to be surrounded by his son's presence; it was as though he was homesick for the boy. _Ridiculous. Why do I feel like I haven't seen Ryou in weeks, when I saw him only an hour ago? What's wrong with me?_ He peered around the small bedroom silently, taking in the evidence of his child's existence.

The room was neat; Ryou had always been tidy. Posters adorned the wall in perfect alignment, figurines perched on his shelves in an order that was only obvious to their owner. The bed was impeccably made, the covers pulled tight with barely a wrinkle. Arihiro chuckled quietly to himself at the boy's fastidiousness; he had no idea where Ryou got it from, because his own father was ridiculously messy.

Arihiro huffed with slight irritation; he had wanted to come to the room with such urgency, but something still felt off. This room was Ryou's, alright, but it felt… different. Colder. Detached? He couldn't put his finger on it. The father swung his arms a little uselessly, considering what to do next. _I suppose I'll just go nap after all. Maybe I'm coming down with a cold or something._ A cool breeze ruffled the man's hair, and Arihiro looked over at the bedroom window. The panes were thrown open, the curtains shifting lazily as the wind filtered through. He frowned a little; Ryou knew the rules about closing the windows when he went to school. They'd once had a freak storm blow through and his son's room had been flooded; _I'll have to remind him that the windows need to be closed when he's not home,_ Arihiro thought, moving across the room to close the panes. He was surprised that Ryou had forgotten, but it was an easy enough mistake to make. Even the most diligent of children forgot sometimes.

A low _chink_ brought the white-haired man back to the present, and, looking down, he was surprised to see the golden ring on the floor by the window; he had accidentally kicked it as he walked. Eyebrows knitting together with confusion, Arihiro squatted down and gently picked the trinket up by its faded leather cord. "What's this doing here?" He murmured, his rich brown eyes watching the slow swinging momentum of the necklace. It was such a strange place to leave the valuable item; he'd thought Ryou treasured the necklace a little more than that. Arihiro frowned, feeling a surge of irritation at his son's thoughtlessness.

"Well, then..." Arihiro stood up, holding the artefact up high so that he could watch the slow turning of the ring. The burnished gold caught the sunlight and reflected it as beautiful golden light; it really was a magnificent item. Arihiro had been so pleased and a little smug to have been able to nab it so cheaply. He recalled with clarity how transfixed he'd been by the ring; he had stood still for almost five full minutes staring at it, nestled amongst other less valuable trinkets and imitation pieces, its metal dusty and dulled, but still glorious. The shop keeper had spoken to him rapidly in Arabic, trying to push other items at the tourist, gesturing madly and grinning winningly the entire time. Arihiro had ignored the attempts however, pointing with sudden surety at the golden ring. He wanted it. He could not explain why, as he generally avoided buying items during work trips, but he could barely look away from the necklace. It was fascinating. It was definitely old, but despite its value in gold alone, the shopkeeper had been almost absurdly happy to part with it for a pittance.

 _It was almost as though it was meant to be,_ he thought, his own two brown eyes locked on the eye decal stamped into the soft metal. Arihiro had never meant to give the necklace to Ryou and instead had intended to keep it for his own personal collection, but mere days after purchasing it, he had begun to feel a physical repulsion every time he touched the artefact. It was as though the item itself was rejecting him; it became so intense that Arihiro felt physically sick if he was too close to the ring; that feeling had only faded once he saw Ryou waiting for him at home. Arihiro did not put much stock in superstition, but he had _felt_ that the ring was meant for his son and not for him; how he knew this, he didn't understand, but he didn't question it. Even now, he could feel himself withdrawing from the item; he knew that if he touched the gold ring itself, he may actually be sick, or worse. Wrinkling his nose, Arihiro walked over to the bed, placing the ring gently into the centre, being careful not to touch the metal with his bare hand. _There. It shouldn't be left lying about like that._ Dusting his hands, Arihiro looked about the otherwise spotless room.

With a sigh, the older man turned to leave. He still felt out of sorts and irritable, and seeing the unnerving ring hadn't improved matters. As he closed the door behind him, Arihiro glanced back at the necklace on the bed. It occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn't have given an item with so much negative energy to a young impressionable teen, but he couldn't help but feel that it had been the right decision. Ryou hadn't reported feeling anything odd about the necklace, and indeed he seemed quite fond of it; he was always wearing it around the house. Arihiro rubbed his chin, pensive. "Well," he murmured out loud, "You may not like _me_ , but make sure you protect my Son." Then, flushing slightly with embarrassment at his odd statement, the older man departed, closing the door with a firm _click._

* * *

.

.

 _A snarl; he was furious._

 _His host had left him. Removed the vessel and left. The spirit paced his Soul Room, prowling like a cornered cat, his hair bristling as though he were raising his hackles, his teeth bared in a feral grimace._

 _He was still weak. He could linger in the mind, influence his Host's emotions, but he needed to be regularly in contact with Ryou's physical body to exert his strongest influence. He had been working on the boy for a couple of weeks now, and had made good progress, but it was proving more difficult than he'd expected. His Host was a plucky little thing, and not as weak of mind as the Spirit had hoped. Nevertheless, he would win, he would win._

 _This was a setback though. He had not been apart from Ryou for a single night since their joining, and he was strongest when the smaller teen slept. There, he could pull the strings of dreaming and reality, confusing his small one's mind and planting the seed of doubt. Who knew how much of his hard work would be undone in this single night? He knew his Host was avoiding him; this more than anything enraged the ancient spirit. Their showdown the night before was still fresh in both their minds; Ryou had managed to repel him, somehow, but the Spirit was not deterred; he had tapped into enough of Ryou's subconscious now to know his true fears and dreams and wishes. He would win this battle of wills. Ryou knew this too- that's why he had fled the house. The Spirit narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. I expected him to come to me tonight and concede. I gave him a day to comply. He defies me and leaves me here!_

 _The Spirit snarled inarticulately, punching his palm with childlike rage. Nobody had ever defied him so openly before. It wasn't supposed to be this way; Ryou was supposed to enable his reign, not fight it; he was a Host, nothing more._

 _The Spirit (Bakura, yes, I am Bakura now) sat on a jutting piece of stone; his Soul Room was dark and dry, like a sealed tomb. He sat and thought, his face flushed with fury. His mind turned inward; he recalled his Host's inner workings, the things he'd discovered during his night-time invasions. Ryou. Ryou. He was a smart one, Bakura could tell. He was smart, but insecure. He was full of many emotions, some familiar and as sweet to the Spirit as a mother's voice; hatred, fear, resentment, deep anguished sadness. Others were less comfortable and more abrasive; hope, love and happiness. But they were dimmer, yes indeed. Ryou had less of a grasp on these. He still wrote to Amane; Bakura had listened to his inner monologue as the white-haired teen addressed his diary entries to his long-dead sister. He puts too much stock in family and love. He is loyal to a fault, almost. Yes. I can use this._

 _Bakura grinned; yes, that was the way to do it. He had been going about this the wrong way, that was all. Ryou would never allow disaster to befall his precious family and friends, even though those at school barely thought of him- oh yes, Bakura could tell that much as well- but still, the smaller teen had too high a moral sense to allow Bakura to use his body for ill gain._

 _The Spirit's deep brown eyes narrowed as he honed his plan. Yes. Turn them first. Turn him last. Of course, I'll have to punish him for leaving me here this time, but after that, well, we'll see if he can hold out when I'm the only thing he has left._

 _Bakura's grimace of rage twisted into what could be considered a smile of sorts. Yes, it was perfect. It would take longer to achieve his goals, but that was all right. It had been five thousand years, after all- another few months would not matter to the ancient one. Yes. Cut him off. The image of an older man with the same bleached-white hair drifted across Bakura's mind. The father._

 _He grinned wider, his sharp teeth gleaming in the directionless light of the Soul Room._

 _I'll begin with the father._


End file.
